


Beowulf, updated

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Beowulf (Poem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The break room silenced when Beowulf entered, everyone except one had hopeful expressions clear on their faces -- apparently his reputation had preceded him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beowulf, updated

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, huge thanks to Sageness for the excellent last minute beta. Thanks to BiPagan and Fairestcat for brainstorming and alpha reading.
> 
> Written for jadelennox

 

 

The break room silenced when Beowulf entered, everyone except one had hopeful expressions clear on their faces--apparently his reputation had preceded him. The one who did not aimed a cold and sullen glare at Beowulf. Beowulf headed towards the Lieutenant's office, ignoring the heavy feeling of their gazes upon his back. With a sigh of relief that he shut the door and turned to face his temporary lieutenant.

Lieutenant James Hrothgar pushed a stack of manilla files across his cluttered desk, took his reading glasses off and leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face, "I hope that you can help us, Beowulf. I didn't want to ask for outside help but, dammit, we cannot catch this guy."

The file folders were cool in Beowulf's hands as he picked the files up. "I'll try my best, sir."

"See that you do, Detective. Interview Room Three should be open." Hrothgar put his reading glasses back on and bent over one of the open files on his desk.

"Yes sir." Beowulf left the quiet office and headed for Interview Room Three, stopping when a tired-looking middle aged man blocked his path.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal detective out to fix our problems," he said with a look of open disdain.

Frustration burned through Beowulf's veins. "I'm just here to help find your serial killer."

"Are you sure you can?" He looked around the room while gesturing theatrically at Beowulf. "Detective Alexander Breca says that you didn't give him full credit for the interrogation and arrest of Emerson Hastings."

Of course Breca would say that, and while Beowulf truly liked his childhood friend, he frequently cursed Breca's loose and unwise tongue. "We did compete to find who could break Hastings first and it was I who did. Breca helped, but he is better with a crime scene than a suspect." The next time Beowulf saw his friend, he would speak to him about over exaggerating his part in investigations. Again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Detective..."

"Unferth, Marcus Unferth." The man supplied with a pained expression on his face.

"I need to go do detective work." Unferth flinched at his words and moved out of the way to let Beowulf through.

***

The thick stack of files covered the large table in Interrogation Room Three as Beowulf sorted them by area. The Lieutenant had sorted them chronologically and while Beowulf knew that they had already been sorted by area there might be a pattern. The first body had been found by a fisherman on the banks of the Wealhtheow river. By the time Unferth had gotten there, water had washed most of the evidence away, leaving the corpse naked of blood and fibers.

Each victim was the same--teenaged to early twenties male and dumped naked by a river. Each victim had his hands bound behind his back and throat slit just below the Adam's apple with the killer's calling card placed beneath his tongue. Beowulf got up and taped a map to one yellow wall and started to mark the location and day the body had been found. Four weeks into the killer's killing spree, there were eight bodies--two per week and each victim was killed elsewhere before being placed along the banks of a river or creek.

An hour later, Beowulf growled in frustration. There was no pattern outside of the time and location of the body. In a city as large as Onela, the sheer number of creeks and rivers made placing uniformed officers or detectives along the banks of each impossible.

With his glasses perched on his nose, he sat down at the table and started over again.

***

A tap on the door interrupted his perusal of the files, he took his glasses off and called out, "Yes?"

A woman wearing a detective's badge walked in, light blonde hair gathered in a tight ponytail. "Hello, I'm Louise Heorgar." She held out her hand and she shook it firmly. "I just wanted to apologise for Unferth. He's not usually that way, it's just that..."

"He's the lieutenant's favorite," he finished for her, wry smile on his face.

"Not only that," she said, shutting the door securely behind her, "he was recently cleared of shooting his partner."

The door opened and Unferth pushed in past Heorgar. "I just heard from one of my informants."

"And?" Beowulf looked expectantly at Unferth.

"And? He said that he just saw someone dump a body along the Geat river. I already called the description into Dispatch and put an APB out on his description." He called out to Beowulf as he left the room, "I'm driving."

***

This time the body had evidence. Water hadn't washed away fibers tucked deep under the victim's fingernails or in the wound.

Beowulf told Sergeant Hygelac to finish processing the crime scene when his police radio crackled that they had found someone covered in blood and fitting the description given by Unferth's informant.

***

His heels clicked sharply on the piss-yellow floor tile as he paced behind the sleepy suspect--Beowulf had a good feeling about this case; suspects never dozed or slept unless they were guilty. With an inward smile, Beowulf began his interrogation, comfortable in the knowledge that he would be able to break him.

"Is it too warm in here for you Mr," Beowulf paused to check his file, "Hawthorn?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, it's not too warm in here. Just about right actually and please, call me Grendel." Grendel said lazily. "By the way, where is my lawyer? You told me my rights and I want my right to a lawyer."

"Are you sure you want a lawyer, Mr. Hawthorn? When you get lawyers involved, they make everything a mess. Complicate things. I'm sure we can work something out between ourselves." Beowulf seated himself across from Hawthorn, pushing an ashtray towards him. "Do you smoke?"

Hawthorn smiled. "Yes I do. Are you offering me a cigarette, Detective Beowulf?"

"What kind do you smoke?"

"Benson and Hedges, I don't suppose you..." He trailed off with an expectant look on his face.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hawthorn, all I have are Camel lights. Will that do?" Beowulf asked politely, warmth flooding his innards. They were going to get this bastard.

***

Beowulf watched his sleeping suspect from behind the observation room's one way mirror, waiting for Unferth to deliver the DNA results from the cigarette butt found under the latest victim. He smiled broadly when Unferth handed him the folder and told him with a gleam of excitement on his face that the DNA from the cigarette butt matched Hawthorn's.

***

With a sharp kick to the table, Beowulf woke Hawthorn. Settling across from Hawthorn, Beowulf switched a tape recorder on. "Why did you kill those nine men Mr. Hawthorn?"

Hawthorn smiled at Beowulf, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Beowulf had to suppress a shudder of revulsion at the gaze . "Because I wanted to and because I could."

finis

 


End file.
